


And Suddenly Without Me

by Yeah_Im_A_Streetlight



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 2 points of view, F/M, Hamliza, Philip's already dead, Pretty sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12198687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_Im_A_Streetlight/pseuds/Yeah_Im_A_Streetlight
Summary: He would wake up in the morning with neck cramps. He was crammed into his office, on a blow up bed that barely fit. He had to put his chair outside every evening in order to slide into bed, feet crushing the wall, head crammed against his desk.Eliza would always be downstairs already. She would cook breakfast for the children, and they would head off to school. She always managed to be strong around them, to wear a shield made of love.They didn’t speak.----------Or, an It's Quiet Uptown AU





	1. Alex

No.

That was the word that circled through Alexander Hamilton’s head for the first week. No.

No, he hadn’t cheated on Eliza. 

No, he hadn’t admitted to an affair.

No, his son hadn’t been shot trying to defend his honor.

No. 

He would wake up in the morning with neck cramps. He was crammed into his office, on a blow up bed that barely fit. He had to put his chair outside every evening in order to slide into bed, feet crushing the wall, head crammed against his desk. 

Eliza would always be downstairs already. She would cook breakfast for the children, and they would head off to school. She always managed to be strong around them, to wear a shield made of love.

They didn’t speak.

He would sometimes come to breakfast. She would serve all the children, then nod in acknowledgement of needing another plate and halfheartedly dish out the scrambled eggs.

He did want to help. He had gotten up earlier than her one morning, and went   
downstairs, started making pancakes for the children. 

She had taken the mix from him and stepped in front of the stove, taking over. Never speaking.

And Philip…

After the children would leave, they would each leave each other’s presence so quickly that an outsider would think Eliza was burned by even seeing him. He would retreat to the garden. He had beds of vegetables, trees of fruits, rows of flowers, flourishing in the warm May air. 

She would stay inside the house, never speaking to him. He found her crying once. Moved towards her. She had left the room.

He really couldn’t blame her. He was like gum on the bottom of a shoe, a spot on a perfectly painted wall. Unnecessary, irritating. Mistakes.

But that was still in his stage of denial.

Philip wasn’t dead, he told himself.

Lied to himself.

It didn’t really hit him until he received an email from Philip’s school.

We’re so sorry to hear of your loss, memorial service, honors presented.

Philip was dead. 

His son.

One of the children he had vowed to bleed and fight for. To protect as long as needed.

He had failed Philip. Failed Eliza. Failed himself.

He had taken to pacing the streets. Walking the full length of the city. Just looking, watching. Never speaking.

He didn’t go to work. Eliza didn’t go to work. The kids came home, and Eliza would make it just like old times. He never spoke to her, didn’t want to make her angry, but when they came to him, he played with them. 

The older ones never came to him anymore. They knew what he had done to Eliza.

He had seen AJ’s math homework. In red ink, it read Incomplete. 

Eliza had asked what had happened.

AJ’s gaze had flicked to him. The boy said he had needed help.

He read between the lines.

He had needed help, but was too disgusted by his father to ask.

Alex’s heart broke a little every time the older children delicately but deliberately avoided him. Angie, AJ, Jamie… even nine year old John knew that he wasn’t supposed to go near Alex. The little ones, Will and Lizzie, would sometimes ask him for a piggy back ride, or something of the like, but they often asked Eliza now, or their siblings.

Alex had a habit of reading through his kids’ notebooks. He loved discovering what they were learning in school, and enjoyed the teacher comments. He was flipping through John’s notebook when he saw a check mark and a note that basically stated that he could talk to the guidance counselor if necessary. 

Alex read the prompt.

Write one thing you wish.

He read John’s response.

One thing I wish is for my family to be better again. My big brother Philip just died, and everybody in my family is super sad. My little sister Lizzie doesn’t understand, and always asks where Philip is. I wish I could bring him back and make everyone more happy.

But I also wish that Mama and Papa would get along better. They don’t talk to each other anymore, and I asked my big brother Jamie why. He was upset and said that Papa cheated on Mama. I don’t know what that means, but now I don’t play with Papa anymore because this fight was his fault, Jamie says. Mama always tells me that when you get in a fight, you should always say sorry, so I want Papa to say sorry to Mama for hurting her, even though I don’t know what he did.

I mostly just wish that my parents would talk to each other again, because even though they try to make it like old times, it’s not the same. I can’t make Philip be alive, but if Mama and Papa were happy, it would be a lot better.

Alex blew out a puff of air. He felt tears pricking his eyes, and thought silently, Me too, Johnny. I wish the same exact things as you.

He found Eliza in her room, on her bed. It still pained him to call it ‘hers’ instead of ‘theirs.’ She had letters on her lap, and Alex recognized them as letters from Philip’s camp years. She was openly crying. He hovered in the doorframe. He couldn’t interfere like this.  
The next day, he made more progress. He leaned near the bed, but she didn’t see him. He left again- she didn’t want him here, no one wanted him here.

She didn’t want him around, yet wouldn’t divorce for the children’s sake.

What had he done to deserve Eliza?

On the third day, he found her curled on the bed, crying and looking completely raw. 

Little Lizzie toddled in.

“Mama?” she asked, “My head hurts.”

Eliza took a shuddering breath and made to get out of bed.

“Come on, Lizzie, let’s get you some medicine. I’ll even read you a story until you feel better…” Alex told her, taking her hand.

Eliza watched, dumbfounded, as her husband and daughter left the room, the latter squealing about Harold and the Purple Crayon.

Slowly, Eliza started to permit him to be around. He made breakfast one day, and drove the kids to school another. On the third day, she did not go up to her room, but instead stayed at the kitchen table, still silent. She knew he wanted to speak. She was letting him.

“Eliza,” he said, voice cracking with lack of use, “Eliza… I…”

He didn’t know where to start.

She didn’t look at him.

He remembered the day he had been sent home from his job by Washington, when he’d learned Eliza was pregnant. The words she’d said to him, proudly, encouragingly.

“Eliza… I… I don’t deserve you, but… just, please, hear me out, that would… that would be enough.” The look of utter shock on her face told him that she remembered her word choice as well as he did.

“Look, I know… I don’t want to make it seem like I get what… what you’re going through, with all of this,” here he gestured to the mantle, where a portrait of Philip sat, and also waved a hand between them, signalling their relationship, “just… just let me stay here by your side.” 

He dropped John’s homework assignment on the table. Saw Eliza skim it, saw the tears in her eyes.

After that, she joined him on his walks in the park. She still never spoke. He tried, he spoke to her. She never responded. Didn’t even look at him. 

But she came.

The first night, Alex was taking his coat, with one foot already out of the door, before he noticed a figure next to him. Eliza.

He had almost cried, almost broken down. He had spoken to her, talked about the children and the government. She remained completely stoic, staring straight ahead.

Alex had gotten a letter from Adams, his new boss. Adams had given him time off work, the letter stated, but now Alexander needed to come back or he would be using sick days. In short, the time at home was up.

He wasn’t ready.

And he said so, too. 

Dinner was over, and Alex had also just finished his email to Adams announcing his resignation so that he could recover and spend time with his wife and children. He didn’t know what the future held, but staying at a company that didn’t allow him time to recover wasn’t part of it. 

He made the mistake of leaving his laptop open in his haste to clear Eliza’s plate for her. 

When he came back, he had seen that she’d read the letter, and Alex’s response. She had a small smile on her face, eyes slightly wet. It was what she had wanted for years, Alex knew, for him to put family first. He had spent so much time making a reputation that he had often overlooked his family, no matter how much he loved them. 

He wasn’t going to do that anymore, he vowed.

He’d expected her to be happy, pleased, maybe even smile at him or permit him to sit by her side at dinner. 

He hadn’t expected her to be this touched. 

He had noticed that she took walks with him when he was trying his very hardest, and when that did happen, she did it without causing a stir, simply standing up moments before he left and joining him.

Tonight, she asked Angie to watch the children. “I’m going out with Papa tonight,” she told the younger ones, and saw Jamie and Angie give each other glances, filled with shock and awe. Eliza never made a scene of the walks, never acted as though they mattered.

She stood near him this time, walking closer to his side. When he said something about how incredible she was to even tolerate him, she looked at him. In the eyes. Alex’s breath caught in his throat. She seemed to be aware of the effect she had on him, because a few minutes later, when he had hopefully told her that she looked gorgeous in the moonlight, adding that she really looked gorgeous all the time, a flicker of a smile flew across her face, and his eyes went large. She looked away quickly, but the smile didn’t vanish, he noted.

He looped them back to the house, but as he was about to go inside, she went around the back to the garden. They stood beside one another, taking in their surroundings. Alex saw a light flash by- a shooting star. He raised his right hand to point at it; when he and Eliza were young, they used to stand outside for hours, searching for these special stars. They were rare, different- they reminded him of Philip.

Please, he wished with all his might, please, let us live again. Let us love each other again, please, please, make everything go back to being right.

It was the wish of a child, he knew that as he made it, but he made it anyway, tracking the star with his eyes until it was out of sight.

That’s when he felt a tingling in his hand. It was unfamiliar, yet well known, like an old friend that you were meeting again after many years apart.

He glanced down at his hand just to be sure. 

Eliza’s hand was resting inside his own.

He couldn’t control a gasp, or the tears that came after. He looked at Eliza, a question in his face.

She smiled at him, a real smile, deep, thoughtful- the very one he had missed.

“I missed you too,” she whispered to him. Neither of them had to ask what she was responding to. 

When they walked back into the house with their hands locked together, they observed the expressions on the childrens’ faces- trying to act as though everything was normal, while sending disbelieving glances at their siblings. 

“Come on, now, it’s time for bed, it’s late,” Eliza told them, but didn’t remove her hand from Alex’s, so that he was pulled along with the children.

Not that he was complaining.

She still didn’t let go after the younger ones were asleep, and when Eliza decided to retire, her hand remained firmly in his. Alex walked with her to bed, but at the door to her room, he froze and stepped back a few inches.

“I’ll, um… I’ll go to my office,” he muttered, ashamed.

But she pulled him inside, never removing her iron grasp.

“You’re sleeping in here tonight,” she informed him.

He could have cried, could have broken down. But he didn’t. He stayed strong, until they got into her bed (he wasn’t sure yet if it was his, too) and she cuddled up against him. That’s when he lost himself. 

“Shh,” she whispered into his chest, her voice a calming breath of wind, an ocean wave, a summer’s rain.

He didn’t sleep that night. He remained in that position long after Eliza had drifted off, simply relishing the thought of being near her.

Forgiveness.


	2. Eliza

The day she’d learned of the affair, she went straight to their room, sat on their bed. All around her were signs of Alex’s presence in the household- his book, his glasses, his coffee mug, his pillow. 

They made her sick.

She spent that day destroying. Burning, tearing, ruining. 

She told him that he wasn’t allowed in her room anymore.

He had nodded and left. Just left. 

The next day she had just felt angry.

Then she moved into her phase of sadness. But they didn’t speak.

Then Philip died. 

They saw each other at the hospital, at the funeral. Alex had been so distraught, she’d almost wanted to make things right right then and there.

She didn’t. 

She couldn’t. Forgiveness would show him how much she needed him, loved him, cared for him. He didn’t deserve that.

So she avoided him. Her schedule consisted of waking up, making breakfast for the children, and sometimes Alex, when he was brave enough to add his plate to the stack, then going up to her room and crying, or mourning, or wondering.

What if?

Those were the words that overtook her mind.

What if Alex hadn’t let that woman into our house?

What if he had told me earlier?

What if Philip hadn’t died?

What if we hadn’t gotten married?

She pushed that one down fast.

Everyone asked her if she wanted a divorce. When her sisters were over, they asked. All the family friends. Angie even asked.

No, she said. Because of the children.

It wasn’t only for the children.

She had seen Alex look down at his lap when she’d told Angelica that she was staying with Alex because ‘the kids need a father.’

It was so much more than that. She wanted Alex by her side, wanted him to be there, even if she wasn’t acknowledging him. He knew what she was going through, he was the only person who could sympathize with her exact pains. She wasn't ready to let go of that.

So she continued her silence.

She knew that she had to remain a mother. She tried to keep life the same for the kids- she would still read to them, put them to bed. 

It was too much sometimes.

And then Alex started trying to help.

She’d gasped softly when she’d seen him cooking for the children. It had warmed her heart.

But he didn’t deserve to know, didn’t deserve to be near her. So she stepped in front of him, taken over for herself.

Every morning, he went out to the garden. She watched him from the window, saw him working at the plants, caring for them as he would a child. 

He would cry, most of the time. 

She would look away, then.

He had tried to comfort her. She couldn’t let him, wouldn’t let him.

She knew he was hovering at the door. The first few nights, she had ignored him, wanting him to make the first move. There was still a part of her heart that burned in anger. That wanted Alex to catch the flames along with it.

Then Lizzie had come in, asking for Eliza.

She had tears on her face, she felt like she was breaking.

But it was her job. 

She was about to stand up when she hears Alex murmuring to Lizzie. “Come on, Lizzie, let’s get you some medicine. I’ll even read you a story until you feel better…”

She was shocked, to say the least.

He kept trying to help her around the house, assist the children.

And now she let him.

She let him cook, clean, read to the kids, even drive them to school.

She knew he was dying to talk to her.

She let him. Stayed at the table, signaling to him mentally that he could finally break the silence.

“Eliza,” he said, voice cracking, not used to her name, “Eliza… I…”

She didn’t look at him. She wanted to, god, she wanted to. But she couldn’t just let him trot away happily. She wanted him to suffer. But she didn’t. She was torn.

“Eliza… I… I don’t deserve you, but… just, please, hear me out, that would… that would be enough.” 

Of all the words he could have used, those were not the ones she would have guessed. She knew those words, some of them, at least. She had stated them to him lovingly when she learned that Philip was going to be born.

He remembered.

That’s a mark of his devotion, she told herself.

You can’t let him get off easy, the other part of her mind said.

She listened to the burning part.

Then he opened his mouth again.

“Eliza… I… I don’t deserve you, but… just, please, hear me out, that would… that would be enough.”

He dropped a piece of paper on the table. Eliza’s eyes flicked over it.

John… wished that his parents would speak again? Wanted to make everything better?

There were tears in her eyes, she noted, slightly embarrassed as she swiped them away.

He walked in the park every evening. 

She started to join him.

He was surprised, she knew. But she was taking his words, and John’s wishes, into account.

She didn’t speak, but he did. He spoke about everything he knew, and she appreciated it. She had always loved knowing what he did each day.

She only went on days when he’d gone out of his way to do anything he could for her. That was becoming more and more frequent now.

When he jumped up to clear her plate at dinner one night, she slid his laptop over to see what he’d been typing furiously. She enjoyed fragments of his work life, but was curious as to what work could have been compelling him to type through dinner.

What she found stunned her.

I will not be returning to the company… I require a considerable amount of time for myself and my family to partially recover enough to restart daily life, and you have not given it to me… I need to be here for my wife and children, and will always put them before work…

He saw her reading it, saw the smile on her face, she knew that. She didn’t bother hiding it.

It was time, she told herself. He was ready, she was ready. 

She made a big show of the nightly walk, making sure to let everyone know she was going with him. When he threw the usual compliments of her incredible strength, she looked at him right in the eyes, then looked away. She could hear his gasp of surprise, and smiled to herself. She couldn’t stop herself from loving Alexander, no matter what.

No matter what broken form they were living in.

When he’d declared a gushing, exaggerated but passionate speech on her beauty, she couldn’t help smiling- it was so very him. She didn’t bother hiding her smile from him, instead locking her eyes with his beautiful, glowing ones and letting a smile flash over her face before looking away.

She was glad that he cared so much about making it up for her.

She knew some people would have just given up on trying to beg for forgiveness.

Alex never gave up when he wanted something passionately.

Meaning he wanted her back passionately. 

It made her feel glowing, proud, warm.

She looped them back to the garden, permitted him to stand by her side. He pointed at a shooting star wordlessly.

She could tell what his wish was from the way his eyes broke, his gaze flickered towards her, his right fist clenched sadly.

His left hand was still open.

I wish that we could love each other the same way we used to.

Those were the words that ran through her mind, intercepting her thoughts. 

The only thing she could see was that hand.

The rough, calloused palm. The pen stains. The bitten fingernails- tough hands. 

She admired his hands, always had. Had tried to make hers as strong as his.

Alex had always told her that she was stronger than him, in mind and body.

If that was true, why was she so nervous to slip her hand into his? To do something they had done nearly every day before the affair?

Her hand slipped inside his, sealing the gap between them. He gasped loudly, tears rolling down his face.

She responded to his wish.

“I missed you too.”

And they were crying, laughing, smiling, breaking. But it was different, now. Now, they were together.

And it made all the difference.


End file.
